


The Explosive Experiment

by Cohava



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aphrodisiacs, But this is just silly smut, F/M, Kinktober 2018, Technically Dub-Con, Woman on Top, author doesn't know how science works, author is very late on her prompts, experiment explodes, scientists - Freeform, the fumes make them bone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-01 21:35:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16292249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cohava/pseuds/Cohava
Summary: Kinktober Day #7 (I know, I know...)Prompt: Aphrodisiacs.Ben and Rey work in the same lab, and happen to be the only two people there when Poe's mysterious experiment explodes, filling the room with a strange bluish smoke. Any guesses as to what it does to them?





	The Explosive Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> As I said in the tags, this is technically dubcon. Obviously it's just porn and it's an excuse to make them bang, but if this sort of thing upsets you please take care. Otherwise, enjoy ;-)

“This is a terrible idea,” she moans, as his hands slide under her sweater to get at her breasts. She thrusts her chest forward to give him better access.

“Yes.”

“We could die. Horribly.”

“...Yes.”

He hoists her up with a grunt to sit on a nearby desk, and she wastes no time wrapping her hands around his neck, now that they are closer in height—the giant bloody tosser—and mouths the shell of his ear.

“We… we should inform someone,” he agrees, even as one of hands is fighting with the front button of her slacks. “This is dangerous.”

“So dangerous.”

“Mmh.”

It’s all in vain. For some reason, all of their combined years of training, the various degrees and experience and basic common sense cannot win against the sudden, powerful, mutual need to touch and feel and fuck each other senseless in the deserted lab where an innocuous-looking vial just exploded, filling the room with blue-tinged smoke. 

Potentially deadly smoke. 

They should be making a run for it, alert security, get the lab quarantined, try to call Poe to tell him that his fucking pet project just blew up and please tell us it’s not something that will kill us. Anything, really, but tear each other’s clothes off on a table right next to the smoking remains.

“This is ridiculous,” she mumbles. “We could die, right here. Also, you hate me.”

Her arms tangle uselessly in the sweater’s sleeves, trying to get it off...

“Don’t hate you.”

He presses a line of kisses to her newly bare chest. She didn’t put on a bra today—she wore a thick top and it’s not like she needs it for support, but Dr. Solo doesn’t seem to mind as he licks her nipple enthusiastically. His hands, his beautiful, giant hands run up and down her naked back, sending shivers across the spine. Fuck it, Rey thinks, if we die here, it’ll be worth it. If we don’t, well, it’ll make a hell of a paper. 

She knows this is the haze of the arousal talking, whatever chemicals the vial released messing with her brain. Somehow, somewhere, what remains of her professionalism and her survival instincts scream at her to fight it, to at least try to do something useful, but that ship sailed right when the explosion sent her careening straight in the arms of Dr. Solo, and they looked at each other and they…

Started kissing, passionately and desperately, instead of taking any remotely sensible course of action. 

She’s stopped trying to make sense of the knot of his tie, much too complicated for her addled mind and hungry hands. She takes hold of Solo’s shirt and tears viciously, sending buttons flying everywhere.

“Fuck!”

“Sorry,” she offers, leaning closer to get her hands all over his surprisingly ripped torso. “I know…” she kisses his left pectoral “...you can afford…” she licks and skims her teeth across his collarbone “...another shirt. You know, if we don’t die,” she shoves him roughly backwards and hops off the table to press her mouth against his lower belly. Just how many abs does this guy have? “Your pay is ridiculously higher than mine.”

Finally, she reaches his erection, still constrained by his trousers, and squeezes. His answering moan reverberates across her whole body like powerful wave, and she feels her own core pulsing desperately, needing him. 

“N-no… I… oh, fuck!” He gasps. He hasn’t been idle during Rey’s eager exploration of his body, and now as Rey straightens to press a kiss against his jawbone, still fondling him, his hands slide inside her already unbuttoned trousers, kneading her arse firmly before pushing the slacks lower. They pool around her ankles, but she doesn’t bother taking them all the way off—she is much more interested in unzipping him and reaching inside his underwear. 

Is he still talking?

“You… ripping my clothes… hot,” he valiantly manages, as he pushes her knickers aside to slide his long, long, wonderfully long fingers inside her.

Well, she’s not going to complain. His low voice does things to her; always did, actually, even before this clusterfuck of a failed experiment. She hadn’t even dreamed how much better it would sound during sex though—and she’s completely sure this is not the sinister blue smoke talking.

Speaking of, the irresistible urge has somehow gotten ever more… urgent. Without ceremony, she pushes Solo down to lie on the floor and straddles him. His hands (one of which is decidedly sticky) come up quickly to support her while she finally, mercifully lowers herself on him. 

There is no more talking now, their loud, harsh breathing and the wet sounds of their bodies coming together in a fast-paced rhythm the only noise filling the lab. Somehow, even through the haze of his pleasure, Solo brings a hand to her front to stroke her clit—a little faster than she’d like normally, but she’s so far gone now than any kind of friction is enough to send her over the edge. 

Her back arches as she comes with a strangled, almost inaudible mewl. Solo isn’t far behind, and she surprises herself by orgasming again when he does, just at the liquid feel of his come. 

It’s the first time she’s ever had sex without a condom. Maybe, if they survive, she’ll be able to worry about that too.

When she opens her eyes, she finds herself staring at the ceiling and she notices, with some detachment, that the smoke has almost completely dissipated. She appears to have rolled off Solo in her post-orgasmic daze and when she turns her head to look at him she is met with his frankly ridiculous, dishevelled attire: the ends are incongruously fine, perfectly knotted tie only slightly askew and shiny dress shoes still on his feet; only, his shirt hangs open down the middle and missing most of its buttons, and his now soft cock is still exposed by the open zipper. 

Rey meets his gaze then, and knows that she is in all likelihood in an almost identical, comically half-dressed state. They stare at each other for a moment and soft, hoarse laughter echoes in the room. 

They’ve never laughed together, but Rey assumes that fucking each other silly under the influence of a potentially deadly concoction creates a bond between people. 

“It seems that we have survived.” Dr. Solo is the first to break the silence.

“Yep.”

“I will need to have a chat with Dameron about his little experiment. This could have gone really badly. I mean, worse. Not that it was… uh…” his ears have gone red, and Rey notices, with some alarm, that it’s kind of adorable. He searches her face, worrying his jaw.

“Are you okay?’”

“Yes. Are you?”

She has to ask, because he looks a bit shaken by the whole experience. He nods.

“We should call someone down. To… you know, evaluate the situation. We should get checked out too, you never know what other effects this thing might have on us…”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Groggily they stand, feeling around for their missing items of clothing, trying to make themselves somewhat presentable. 

“Wait,” he says, as soon as her trousers are up and her tits are once again covered. She blinks at him. 

He breathes deeply, almost as if steeling himself, then blurts out: “I meant it. I don’t hate you.”

She needs a couple of seconds to understand what the hell he’s talking about.

“You… what?”

“I don’t hate you. Never have.”

“But… we’re always yelling at each other.”

“Professional disagreements.”

“Right.”

“Passionate professional disagreement. You know, because we’re both so passionate. About our job.”

“...Okay.”

“Anyway, I was wondering if… Since I so rudely ravished you without even buying you a drink first…”

“Hey! Slow your horses. If anything, I ravished you.”

He takes another deep, deep breath. She fights the urge to smile. She’s never seen him so flustered, and it’s surprisingly endearing. She also has a feeling about what he’s gearing himself to ask her and, as much fun as messing with him is, she finds herself not entirely opposed to the idea.  
“Anyway,” he bites out, “I was wondering if I can rectify the situation by offering you a drink. that is, after this mess is cleared up and we make sure we’re not going to die or mutate into weird superheroes.”

“Sex superheroes. I like the sound of that.” She muses, then takes pity on his rapidly reddening ears. “And yes, when this is all over, I’ll let you buy me a drink. Or several. And, Solo?”

“...Ben.”

“Huh?”

“You should probably call me Ben. You know, after…” he gestures vaguely “...everything”.

“Ben. All right, I like it. Well, Ben… you better start buying a lot more shirts. You know… just in case.”

She winks.


End file.
